Outtakes
by quillstrike
Summary: A collection of scenes from the OQaS-verse
1. Seth: OQaS 28

**Seth**

**Author note: 'ello! I've had this idea for a while now, and I finally got the motivation to start. The basic idea is that I will be writing one-shots from various POVs of events that occurred in the OQaS-verse (so no asking me to write from Harry's POV from the time he received his Hogwarts letter). I will be using a random generator to pick who/what scene I'll write about from the review section (in other words, you can post your requests – say character name + scene + chapter if applicable – and I'll randomly select one). This first one is a gift for Unpretentious for being my 200****th**** reviewer for OCaT! :D Thank you all! C:**

_Seth POV – Chapter 28 of OQaS_

"Oi! Seth."

I paused mid-motion, my shirt wrapped around my shoulders uncomfortably as I began to pull it on.

"What?" I asked.

Scorpius leaned against his bedpost, contemplatively turning a small object – an inkwell – over in his hands.

"Do you-do you know how to avoid getting brutally murdered by angry fathers?" he asked finally, still looking away determinedly.

I smoothly scooped up my discarded shirt (which had been lying on the ground – I was never one for orderliness) and lobbed it at Scorpius's head. He flinched, scowling at me in annoyance.

"Oi!" he protested. I shrugged. "I know we're Slytherins, mate, but honestly – you're acting like a right coward," I said pointedly. "I mean, people have been wanting to kill you your whole life. Why are you suddenly worrying about it now?"

His pale cheeks reddened, and a wicked smile spread across my face. Aha. So this was about a certain redheaded Weasley.

"This is about Rose, isn't it? And the fact that her father, one of the most prominent _Aurors_, is going to murder you when he finds out you've been slobbering over his precious, _only _daughter," I continued.

His scowl deepened, and to my surprise Scorpius looked genuinely angry. "I should have known you wouldn't take this seriously," he muttered before leaping to his feet and moving to the door leading out of our dorms.

I blinked, still a bit at a loss at what had just happened. I was too proud to apologise for something I didn't understand, though, so I merely asked, "Where are you going?"

He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. "To your sister's Duel club," he answered finally, not bothering to turn around. Then he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sat back on my bed, staring at the closed door for another moment before shaking my head. His words didn't hurt, I told myself firmly. He didn't mean it. I stared down at my hands, frowning slightly as I mulled over his words. I was known as the stupid twin – the one who was more likeable, sure (though that wasn't too hard of a reputation to obtain when your sister was a hermit), but everyone tacitly agreed that I was the foolish boy who couldn't take things seriously. And why would they think otherwise when Adela was a bloody genius?

I pushed down a flicker of unease, determinedly fixing a bright smile on my face (then I dimmed it down a bit; I couldn't go around looking like freaking _Santa Claus_, for Merlin's sake) and wrenching myself from my bed (it was quite cozy, and I normally would be fast asleep…Adela should thank her lucky stars that she has such a loving and thoughtful brother).

I had a duel club to attend.

xxxxxxxxx

The huge horde of chattering students led me to Duel Club; all I had to do was follow the trail of students playfully slashing at the air with their wands in some odd mockery of a duel. I wasn't the best dueler (though I would only admit that under extreme duress), but even I knew that if you didn't take it seriously, your chances of surviving were extremely slim (as in, smaller than the chances of seeing Adela don a frilly dress and willingly attend one of Mother's luncheons).

I spotted a flash of white-blond hair and automatically began to make my way over but stopped when I saw that Rose was with him. I hesitated before smoothly switching directions, acting as if I had meant to head towards the giggling group of Hufflepuffs in the first place (dear Merlin. Out of _all _the directions I could have picked). Before I could change directions again, however, my _darling_ sister shrieked "Oi" at a pitch that could have shattered even the thickest of glasses.

Everyone winced, cringing downwards and clutching at their ears. Master of charisma, my sister was not. Unfortunately, this action led one of the Hufflepuffs to spot me, and I realised with horror that she was the girl I'd accidentally dumped into a pile of hippogriff dung (it was a long story involving a dare and several stitches) back in third year. She narrowed her eyes, jabbing her elbow at her friends until they all spotted me, their arms moving in synchronization to go to their hips.

Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic. Making a mental note to embarrass Adela at the nearest opportunity for revenge, I carefully inched my way away. My sister and Al – when had they started tolerating each other's presence? – were still speaking, but I was a bit preoccupied with the murderous Hufflepuffs to pay close attention to them.

Maybe this was like escaping from a bear. You just had to keep quiet and make no sudden movements. A sudden image of a bear dressed in the lurid Hufflepuff yellow flashed in my mind, and I couldn't help but smirk a bit – which, of course, made the Hufflepuffs even angrier.

Then there was silence, and the girl looked back up towards the stage, her eyes widening a bit. Her entourage followed suit, and several began whispering feverishly behind cupped hands as they stared at the stage. Great. Adela had probably gone and turned herself pink again (okay, to be fair, _I'd_ been the one to plant the potion in her bacon that time…but how was I supposed to know she'd go and eat the whole _platter_).

Mentally steeling myself for whatever horrific sight I was going to see, I turned slowly, raising my head to look at the stage.

…

What?

Al – no, the treacherous Potter demon child who was going to be hexed soon if I did not receive an explanation soon – was wrapping his lecherous arm around my baby sister. I scowled, my hand reaching towards my wand, before stopping myself abruptly. Wait. I wasn't some _Gryffindor_. I wasn't about to charge right in bellowing loudly and firing hexes every which way. Al was probably just trying to restrain her from accidentally hexing herself. Besides, hexing him when he was defenseless – and without hundreds of witnesses – would be more effective.

So I forced myself to calm down, removing my hand from my wand, and watched the stage with narrowed eyes. Adela had pushed away from Al at this point, and her cheeks were doing that annoying thing and turning bright red (stupid genetics; my cheeks did the same thing).

Adela was clearly flustered, and she'd started bellowing about shield charms. I folded my arms over my chest and glared at Al silently. My peers were starting to chatter excitedly and group in partners around me, pushing past me and glaring when I didn't move from my central position.

Yes, I decided. Al was going to have to be interrogated. I brightened a bit at the thought – hey! Maybe I'd finally be able to try out that new sweet I'd picked up at Hogsmeade that turned people red.

Feeling considerably more cheerful, I whistled to myself contentedly and walked over to one of the Gryffindor chasers (I hated them all) and pulling him over to one of the dueling platforms.

I bowed, adjusting my grip on my wand. Then-

"_BATTLE CRY!"_

**AN: As always, thanks so much for reading! :) Remember – if you'd like to see a particular scene/character POV, just ask! It's a bit odd to be writing from a different character's POV, but it's nice practice. These one-shots will be of varying length but will on average be shorter than the OCaT chapters. **


	2. Albus: OQaS 1

**Albus**

**Shona-Ann: "This is great! What about Al's point of view when Adela has green hair?"**

_Albus POV – Chapter 1 of OQaS_

"_MUM, I CAN'T FIND MY OWL!"_

Lily.

"_HOW IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU LOSE A BLOODY OWL?"_

Mum.

"_I DON'T KNOW – IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"_

Lily again.

Loud stomping noises echoed from my right as Mum began her ascent up the wooden stairs. From the sound of it, Mum was furious. Lily must have come to the same conclusion as I had, for softer scuttling noises soon sounded from the direction of her bedroom – she was probably trying to escape through the window again. Unsuccessfully, too – from the way the scratching noises were becoming more frantic, she'd gotten herself stuck between the frames again. By now Mum was storming up the second floor of the house. Lily's room was right next to mine on the third floor. Hm. I weighed my options, tilting my head slightly as I gazed out of the window pensively.

Pros of helping the little sister: I get to lord it over her. I get a favor to be called in (though Lily was rather useless when it came to the things I needed to get done – most of them involved spying and/or avoiding James as much as possible).

Cons: Risk Mum's wrath (which was _not _something to be taken lightly).

As of now, the con side was winning. By a lot. So I yawned, stretching my legs out on the windowseat and resumed my watch of the quiet street outside. Scorpius and Seth were bound to arrive any minute now. I'd already packed all of my things; my trunk lay quietly by my door where I could keep an eye on it (the last time I'd left it unattended, James had filled it with hippogriff dung).

The scratching was getting louder, this time accompanied by half-strangled, panicked yells of frustration.

I groaned.

"Oh, _come on_," I muttered to myself, grabbing my wand and leaping to my feet. Then I headed over to Lily's room, allowing myself a moment to snicker (quietly – Lily might be young, but she could be bloody scary. I blame genetics – the Weasley side is nothing to scoff at) at the ridiculous image in front of me. Lily had managed to wiggle so that she was half-hanging out of the room, her legs dangling against her flowered wallpaper. She'd recently hit a growth spurt and was now entering her fourth year. I'd already caught – and hexed – a few blokes talking about her in a way that made me want to gag.

"Hello, sister dear," I said cheerfully, walking forward just close enough to be out of range of her flailing legs.

She cast a half-annoyed, half-panicked look over her shoulder.

"_Al!_" she hissed, her eyes darting to the door behind her. I feigned nonchalance, though my back was tensed and my ears carefully pricked to monitor Mum's progress. Luckily Dad had managed to sidetrack her on the stairs – I could distantly hear them talking about some Ministry affair.

"Get me out of here!"

I raised an eyebrow.

She groaned, muttering something about "blasted Slytherins," before saying, "Fine. I'll do your dishes for a week."

I pretended to be fascinated with her bookshelf. Merlin, she had a lot of pink books. Lily let out another frustrated huff.

"_Two _weeks!"

I grinned, turning to face her once more.

"That's more like it," I said. Muffled noises were coming from outside – Mum had advanced to the hallway. I exchanged a panicked look with Lily before pushing her frantically, bracing my feet against her pink carpet (so much pink – her room made me want to vomit).

The sounds were growing louder now. I resumed my efforts quickly, pushing at her feet with my shoulders and arms.

"Come…on!" I hissed through gritted teeth. Then, with a muffled thump, Lily was out of the window and clinging to the oak tree outside.

I exchanged one last harried look with her before she began scuttling down the bark with practised ease.

The door banged open, revealing one angry-looking Ginny Potter.

I cringed inwardly; Lily owed me for this. Big time.

"Al? _Al._ Where is my daughter?" she asked evenly, crossing her arms. Uh oh. Crossing arms=first sign of the Ginny Anger meter.

"Um. You know, you're looking particularly nice today," I tried.

Her scowl deepened.

"Albus Severus Pot-"

That was sign number two and cue for me to flee. Luckily, I heard the telling creak of a carriage pulling up on the street outside.

"Oh, look, Seth's here! I'd better go – bye!" I rushed past her before she had time to react, grabbing my trunk and dragging it over to the stairwell.

In my haste, I slammed into a bloke. Great. Just bloody great.

I collected myself before mustering up the coldest look I could manage, sneering down at James.

He looked down at my trunk before meeting my eyes with a scornful glare.

"Off to play with the purebloods again?"

I stiffened, my hand tightening on my wand. Merlin, I hated him.

Patience, Al. Patience. I could always worry about him later.

Though all I wanted to do was hex him, I forced myself to look away. Seth and Scorpius were waiting – and with them came a blessed escape from this jerk of a person.

"Traitor!" James called from behind me. I ignored him, slamming the front door open.

Seth blinked, exchanging a long look with Scorpius.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing," he said slowly. Then he grinned. "Need help with that trunk, mate? It looks a bit heavy."

I fought down a grin, my prior anger slowly dissipating.

"Sod off, Seth. Try and carry this trunk and you'd break your arm," I jeered.

We made our way to the waiting carriage, and with each step I took away from the house, the lighter I felt. Maybe this day could be salvaged after all.

I heard muffled thumping sounds from inside the carriage. Did Seth have some house elf shut up in there? I opened the door, my eyes widening at the sight inside.

Seth's sister was jabbing at her – bright green – hair with her wand, muttering crazily to herself. Her hair was as wild as always, though the usual dark brown had changed to a lurid green that made every other colour dull in comparison.

Seth's sister was odd, to say the least. She was a meddling annoyance at times and had gotten it into her head that she hated me, which made for some amusing spectacles.

My lips twitched. Yup. This day was going to be fine.

Scorpius looked horrified, and he was inching away slowly from the carriage. My grin widened. Now I had something to hold over Scorpius _and _I got an amusing spectacle to watch.

She had noticed our presence by now, and she was darting wary glances at me. I smirked at her, and she scowled, turning away with a huff.

"Your sister's a nutter," I said to Seth.

She let out a half-strangled noise, banging her head against the carriage window.

Life was good.

**Author Note: thanks for reading! Remember, if you have any scenes you want to be picked, just post them in your review and I'll run them all through a random number picker to choose which one I'll do! :) The 300****th**** reviewer of OCaT will automatically receive a one-shot. **


	3. Albus: OQaS 23

**Albus**

**Prize for The Hazel Purple Skyline for being my 300****th**** reviewer for OCaT :)**

_Albus POV – Chapter 23 of OQaS_

She dragged me to a bloody quill shop.

A _quill _shop. Merlin, I had no idea those even existed (how was there a big enough market to keep those running?). After we'd escaped from the revolting display of Malfoy pawing my baby cousin (which I would _certainly _be paying him back for), Lancaster forced me over to some small side street of Hogsmeade and into this dusty shop.

Okay, maybe dragged is an exaggeration. It was more like she took off running and I followed her to make sure she didn't get into any more trouble. Well, that and the fact that where Lancaster went, hilarity soon followed.

And Merlin knew I was in desperate need of some amusement after the gag-worthy hormonal action back at the Three Broomsticks.

I shuddered at the memory before leaning back against the wooden counter as I took in my surroundings. The store was dark and dusty with bundles of quills levitating in the air and protruding from every crevice of the cobbled walls. It was…a bit quaint, actually. I could see why it could appeal to some people.

I cast my eyes back to Lancaster. Her hair was messy and her gestures as needlessly wild as ever. Merlin knew how Seth's sister ever survived the ballroom dancing classes that were expected of Pureblood children. She probably took out a few people on her first day.

She was speaking with an elderly man – the shopkeeper, then. I couldn't imagine this store got many customers.

The man glanced at me, narrowing his watery blue eyes.

I stiffened; here was the part where he either a) thought I was my father (Merlin, I _hated _when that happened – that usually ended up with my being either hugged or spat at…depending on what part of London I was in) b) started expecting me to do some extraordinary feat of magic befitting of the son of the savior of the bloody Wizarding World or c) sneered and said something about how the talent certainly hadn't passed on to me.

To my surprise, his gaze remained blank.

"And who is this?" he asked, swiveling back to face Lancaster. Lancaster turned around to eye me shrewdly. I scowled at her; that witch was too intelligent. I always had the sinking feeling that she was trying to decipher my innermost thoughts. Knowing her brain (what did she call it again? Numberita?), she would probably be successful if I let her pry for too long. She rolled her eyes and said casually, "Oh, he's no one of importance."

…

What.

My scowl deepened as I glared at her back. How _dare _she dismiss me? I was not some bloody _Hufflepuff_. I wasn't going to take this abuse without retribution.

Perhaps I could take away her bacon. From what I could tell from the six-odd years that I'd known her, the girl was obsessed with the food (as in, the last time she heard there wasn't any bacon in her house she almost tore Seth apart).

The old man was sighing in resignation by now. Figures. Lancaster was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

She bounced up and down, her mouth widening into a broad grin. She pushed her hair back excitedly, beaming all the while. Merlin. When she smiled, it was like someone went and dumped happiness and good cheer all over place. It was a bit unsettling (though not in a necessarily unpleasant way), but I couldn't help but smile a bit in return, my lips curling upward as I watched her dance a little in place.

Then she froze, her expression falling at an almost comical pace.

Great. Now she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

I hated crying people. I never knew what to say (I'd taken to carrying around armloads of sweets with me to shove into the would-be crier's mouth whenever I got the first hint of incoming tears, but unfortunately I'd left them in my dorm).

I weighed my options; I could either go over and offer a begrudging inquiry into her health or I could pretend to be fascinated with this white quill to my right.

Her lip was quivering now, and she was glaring fiercely at the floor, looking as if she'd like nothing more than burn a hole through the wood.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to be responsible for any property damage. I walked toward her, asking, "What's wrong?"

She started, looking up to meet my eyes.

Then she swallowed, making a visible effort to school her expression. She lifted her chin haughtily. I watched her skeptically, raising an eyebrow; honestly, she was maybe the worst liar I'd ever met. And that was coming from the bloke with Hugo Weasley for a cousin.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, three seconds ago you were grinning like a lunatic and now you look like you're about to burst into tears," I said pointedly.

She huffed, turning her nose up. I bit back another smile. Lancaster couldn't look haughty even if the livelihood of bacon relied on it. Which was kind of nice – Merlin knew I'd been around enough of Victoire's antics when she was first named model of the year.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said primly. This time I did roll my eyes. Fine. She obviously didn't want to admit that she was upset. I had no idea what was making her anxious, but I might as well distract her.

This had to fulfill my quota of good Samaritan actions for the day. Hey! Maybe this would counteract my future revenge against Scorpius. You see this, Karma? This is me being a good person. Please don't feel the need to shove any bad fortune my way for the rest of my life. Thanks and much appreciated.

Besides, Lancaster did look distressed. And contrary to popular belief, I was not impervious to pity (Merlin knew Lily's successfully pulled the cursed puppy dog eyes trick time and time again).

I turned to a random shelf, running my fingers lightly over the first quill that caught my eye – the same white one from before.

"This one's nice," I said. Lancaster loved quills. If this didn't distract her, I didn't know what would.

Thankfully she brightened immediately, reciting matter-of-factly, "Barn owl, approximately 2 years old and 3 months, give or take a few days."

I stared at her for a moment before shaking my head slightly. Of course. This was Lancaster I was speaking to. I would be lying if I said I wasn't impressed.

Realizing I was still staring at her, I quickly brought my eyes back down to look at the quill.

"You know, I need a new quill anyway. Might as well pick one up now," I said.

I turned to her, an expectant look on my face.

"Wait. Does it pass the Adela test?"

She gaped at me for a moment.

Merlin, was she going to make me say it?

Silence.

She was. I sighed, saying, "Sorry – does it pass the _Awesome _Adela test?" There. That should make her happy; she often went around Hogwarts bellowing that her name was Awesome Adela. Seth reckoned that she genuinely believed that if she referred to herself that way often enough, the other students would have no choice but to call her that as well (it was a bit sad, but far too funny to stop).

She nodded, a short, abrupt movement. Now she looked like she'd swallowed a pint of nails. Er. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to approach her. This was a stupid idea.

"Right, I'll just go buy this then," I said slowly, making my way towards the counter. While I was waiting, the curtains toward the back fluttered once more as Scrivenshaft returned.

He carried a velvet box carefully in front of him. I edged closer, peering at the object curiously. He reverently opened the box, holding up its contents just high enough that I could see it. It was a quill that looked remarkable like an opal, all clouded smears of colour and expensive-looking details.

Lancaster asked the price.

"1000 galleons," he said.

Lancaster began spluttering, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open in disbelief. Though I wasn't as expressive (I _did _have some pride, after all), I was also shocked by his answer. Merlin. A _thousand _galleons? That was ridiculous. It was a fine quill, sure, but no quill was worth that much. Something was off. I narrowed my eyes at Scrivenshaft, noting the way his left hand was trembling behind his back and the way his eyes were fixated determinedly on a spot far to the right of Lancaster's head.

Yes, something was up with this bloke.

Scrivenshaft said something about "cannot let this go for less than 800 galleons." Which was absolute rubbish. I was sure the quill was worth at the most only 500 galleons – which was still quite a sizeable amount, but certainly not as outlandish as 1000 galleons. I surveyed the shop quickly, observing the patched wall and the leaky pipes jutting out in the back.

I'd bet James's last Quidditch jersey that Scrivenshaft needed 800 galleons for something – whether it was for repairs or debts I did not know. But I was going to find out.

Lancaster stormed out, and Scrivenshaft sighed, clicking the velvet box shut with a regretful shake of his head.

I turned to him, sneering slightly to show what I thought of his supposed regret (the git was probably expecting her to return with the asked sum).

"You're hiding something," I said coldly.

He blanched, his face reddening slightly as he took a step back, his mouth opening to spout some rubbish excuse. I stepped forward quietly, cutting him off before he could speak.

"And I'm going to find out what it is."

With a final disdainful look, I turned and exited the shop, running forward to catch up with Lancaster.

This Hogsmeade trip had just gotten interesting.

**Author Note: Thanks for reading! :) If you'd like to see a particular scene/POV, just leave a suggestion and I'll pick the winning prompt using a random generator c:**


	4. Albus: OQaS 26

**Albus**

**books. fluff. and other stuff: "you sould do al's pov from chapter 26!"**

The moonlight bathed the forest with an eerie, yellow-tinged glow. The Forbidden Forest was quiet, almost as if the trees were holding their breath. Well, except for the blundering footsteps of the girl walking beside me. I glanced at her, rolling my eyes when she stepped on a dry leaf and jumped in surprise, crushing another three leaves in the process.

Despite the added noise, her presence was not unwelcome. I had been more than prepared to venture into the forest alone, but I had to admit that I felt better having Lancaster around. She was a more than decent dueler, and if it did come to blows…

I frowned, my hand flexing on my wand. Somewhere within the dense trees awaited the attacker. Somewhere within these trees lay my chance at proving myself, my chance at showing the world that I was not just another Potter but _Al_. I knew that if Aunt Hermione - or even Lancaster - caught wind of my thoughts, she would whack me on the head and tell me that my motivation ought to be saving the people. It wasn't like that _wasn't _one of my motivations; it just wasn't my only one, and I saw nothing wrong with that. The end result would be the same either way: creepy stalker guy would be taken down. What did it matter if someone else benefited in the process?

I scanned the shrouded woods carefully, my every muscle tense as I searched for a single sign of movement.

Something felt off, but I couldn't tell whether it was my nerves or something legitimate.

"DUCK!" I heard Adela shriek. I dropped to the ground, my knees slamming against a root.

A bolt of red light seared the air above me, singing the air. Merlin. That would have hit my chest; I felt a rush of gratitude for the Ravenclaw.

Merlin. My tongue felt thick, clumsy, and I cautiously got to my feet. I crouched, quickly searching the clearing. It was silent once more, but now the silence was foreboding.

"Al!" she hissed.

I turned to look at her; her hazel eyes were wide, her thick brown hair flying wildly around her face. She looked very small, then, shivering in some Quidditch jersey that, while admittedly flattering (Merlin, did I just say that a baggy jersey was flattering? Fuck, this was not good), probably did nothing against the frigid night air, and I cursed my own cowardice. If I got her killed tonight, I would never forgive myself. All because I couldn't face the big, bad forest by myself…

Pathetic.

She looked worried, and I realized that I had waited far too long to reply.

"It's okay, Adela. I'm here. Do you sense him?" I whispered. She had been the one to sense the attack and, as much as I hated to admit it, she was better equipped to sense a malicious presence (this was probably how she always managed to hit me with a bloody Bludger just as I was about to capture the Snitch).

I approached her, maneuvering so that we were back to back. For defensive purposes, of course. She really was quite short, but there was something endeari-

Merlin. _Focus_, Al. You are in a life-threatening situation, not some "Let's Let Our Hormones Take Over" fest.

Luckily, Seth's sister didn't seem to notice my inner turmoil, for she was quite still, her head cocked slightly as she listened intently.

Silence. Then -

"LEFT 39˚!"

I reacted, sliding to the left and flinging a stinging hex into the dark underbrush. I heard a muffled grunt, and I allowed myself a quick smile before I began running towards the target.

"RIGHT 12˚!" I shot a Stupefy over my shoulder, skidding to a halt. The streak of red collided with a bright blue shield. A miss, then. I scowled.

The clearing settled once more, strikingly dark in the absence of the attack hexes.

"Anything?" I asked finally.

"No," she replied. My scowl deepened. I couldn't just _wait _here; he was probably escaping while I stood here like a dumb rock.

"I can't stand this," I muttered. Then I took off, my legs pumping as I sprinted towards the direction where I'd seen the shield charm.

Where was he? I slapped at the clawing branches, shoving my way past the tree trunks. My blood pounded in my ears, and I felt my lips pulling into a grim smile. I was not going to fail.

A blood-curdling howl pierced the air, emanating from a location behind me. I stilled, my eyes flashing up to the full moon above.

Merlin's beard.

I looked longingly ahead, where the assailant was probably still waiting, before a second, equally chilling sound rang through the air.

This time, though, it was not an inhuman howl. No, it was all too familiar.

I turned without a second thought, my feet sliding on the dry leaves.

"_ADELA!_" I bellowed. I cursed my own reckless selfishness as I ran. Please don't be dead please don't be dead please don't -

I spotted a hulking form crouching over a small, feminine figure. My heart skipped a beat; she was alive! Thank Merlin.

"_ADELA!"_ I shouted again, drawing the beast's attention to me. I flung my arm forward, shooting a quick Stupefy. Although the spell hit it squarely in the chest, the werewolf didn't seem to be deterred. If anything, it looked amused. I gritted my teeth and shouted, "_Confringo!_" The beast dodged it easily, and I swallowed, acrid fear building at the back of my throat.

I glanced at Adela; she looked near unconsciousness, dirt smearing her face. If I died, she would too. Resolve strengthened me, and I felt renewed strength flowing through my body.

I took a deep breath, narrowed my eyes, and said carefully, "_Expulso_." A twin beam of magic shot from Adela's direction, and the two curses hit the werewolf at the same time. The beast growled, crumpling to the ground mid-noise. He bit angrily at the air, his eyes glowing slightly in the dark. Then he struggled to his feet and loped away, heavily favoring his right side.

I shot a quick hex at him, but it missed, slamming into a nearby tree instead. He shot me a contemptuous look before disappearing into the underbrush.

I traced his retreat for a few seconds, the urge to chase him down pulling me towards him. I heard a muffled thud to my left, and I saw Adela's head lolling against the tree trunk behind her. All thoughts of pursuit fled my mind, and I rushed over to her, cursing steadily under my breath.

I checked her pulse quickly. It was slow, lethargic. No. No no no no no-

I tried opening one of her eyes, but they were blank, lacking all of the usual vibrancy they usually possessed. I cursed again. I felt utterly helpless.

I fumbled for my wand and muttered _Lumos_. Hopefully the bright light would make her alert. Not caring if anyone heard, I began shouting insistently in her ear.

"ADELA! ADELA! ADELA NICOLE LANCASTER!"

Nothing.

I let out a half-strangled noise, desperation blearing my eyes. Merlin. Merlin. _Merlin _she could _not _die. She was not born to die in this forest. She was born to laugh and violently hit Bludgers at people and spout complex numbers that only she could understand and be inspiringly energetic and -

Merlin, I fancied her. I fancied my best friend's twin sister and he was going to kill me.

Great timing as usual, Albus. This girl was dying and I was thinking about how I fancied her? I swallowed, then concentrated, infusing more of my magic into the simple light spell. The light flared, glowing white-hot until it lit the whole clearing.

"ADELA NICOLE LANCASTER IF YOU DIE I SWEAR I WILL DUMP ALL OF YOUR QUILLS IN THE OCEAN!"

Her eyes twitched, and my breath caught. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you-

I impulsively reached forward, wrapping her in a rough hug. Sorry, Seth.

"I thought you _died_i," I whispered, greedily drinking in her nose, her wild hair, her wide eyes.

"Merlin, Adela," I said. She smiled weakly, and my heart jerked in response. Some small portion of my mind whispered snidely, "Mate, you're screwed," but at that moment I couldn't care less.

"The beast?" she whispered hoarsely. I frowned, bitterness threatening to overcome my elation. "Ran away. I tried to hit it...but I missed."

"Not your fault," she murmured. I absent-mindedly traced her cheekbone with my thumb. She flinched, and I drew back instantly.

"Al, listen. I need to tell you something," she whispered. Merlin, her lower body looked bad. Cuts ran up and down her legs, and she was clearly suffering from severe blood loss.

"Shh, Adela, I need to get you to the Infirmary," I said. If she died now, after all that-

"No, Al," she began, and she sounded so like herself, so stubborn, so _alive _that I couldn't help it -

I kissed her.

**Author Note: I'm back! :D Hope you liked it. I quite enjoy writing Al's POV (and he seems like a popular POV, judging by all of the requests I get haha). As always, please let me know what you think + include a prompt/request for another POV in your review! :)**


	5. Al: OQaS 14

**Albus**

**y: "Could you do Al's POV on the part where Al confronts her of liking James in chapter 14?Please update soon!"**

Seth sounded like the bloody engine of the Hogwarts Express. His snores billowed through the room, echoing across the stone walls in a hideous display of his lungs' considerable might. Thank Merlin for silencing spells.

I stared at his shaking bed for a moment before shaking my head, stooping to retrieve the book of offensive spells from the floor beside my bed. I'd woken up early to get in an hour or two of practice before breakfast. I ran my hand absently over the embossed cover ("1001 ways to disarm, hex, and block!"), my shoulders tensing. James could have the Gryffindor courage and pride, but this? This was _mine_.

My fingers tightened around the spine and, grabbing my wand from my nightstand, I exited the Slytherin dorm.

I'd found a fairly unused and spacious classroom in third year. It had once been a Charms classroom, but I suspected it had been abandoned due to the suffocating stench that permeated it. I didn't mind the smell; it was worth the privacy. I headed towards this classroom now, climbing the stairs leading away from the Slytherin dungeons.

I heard distant murmurs and spotted a girl with sleek blonde hair chatting with a shorter boy with curly black hair. I swiveled quickly, ducking behind a corner to avoid them. I vaguely recognised the girl as a friendly Hufflepuff sixth year who had been in my Potions class last year. I pressed back into the shadows, eying their advance warily; it was far too early to deal with such saccharine sweetness, and I watched her pass my hiding spot with relief.

Once I'd confirmed their absence, I stepped out and continued down the corridor, my pace quickening as I drew closer to the narrow side hallway leading to the classroom.

Just as I was about to round the corner, I heard a loud bellow emanating from the hall. I cursed silently, quickly debating whether to a) hex the person (not with anything serious - just something innocent enough to look like an accident but severe enough to draw the person away) b) charm the person into leaving (no, it was too early in the morning to muster a fake smile) or c) find a different classroom (not an option; I was not giving up this classroom).

I was still weighing my options when the loud yell slowly separated into distinguishable words.

"I AM SO BLOODY BORED!" came the shriek.

I quirked a brow, a slow smile tugging at my lips. Ah, of course. Who else but Lancaster would be yelling to herself in an abandoned corridor?

I rounded the corner readily, stifling a laugh when I saw her fuzzy pajamas. Merlin, she was even wearing _footsie _pajamas. Well, she was certainly interesting; I could give her that.

She'd turned at my entrance, her face reddening. My smile grew at her obvious discomfort, and I quickly schooled my features into careful confusion.

"Lancaster?" I asked, glancing at the door behind her; she was standing directly in front of my classroom.

"What?" she snapped, looking defensive.

I arched a brow, letting the silence drag on. Her blush spread down her neck, and I watched it advance for a moment before realising that the pale flush was spreading underneath her pajamas' collar. I wrenched my eyes back up, keeping my face carefully neutral.

Merlin. Okay, move on, Al. So you just almost stared at your best mate's twin's chest. No big deal.

Feeling deeply unsettled, I searched frantically for another subject.

My eyes darted to a small painting of a table laden with food, and I recalled Lancaster's sickening mooning at last night's dinner.

"So, you fancy my brother," I blurted. I scowled inwardly as soon as the words had escaped my mouth; I never wanted to talk about James, and I certainly did not want to discuss him with _Lancaster _of all people. Merlin, what was wrong with me today? First the - er - blush incident and now this?

Luckily, Lancaster hadn't seemed to notice my unease (I'd perfected my poker face after years of practice).

"I don't fancy James."

She really was a horrid liar. Her left hand fidgeted, nervously stroking her ridiculous pajamas (speaking of which, she was the only person I knew who could wear footsie pajamas and not look creepy and/or ridiculous), and she kept reaching up to scratch at her nose. Honestly, Seth should at least try to teach her; how could anyone so smart be so horrible at lying?

They always fell for James. James was effortlessly charming; he was confident, social, and loud. I wondered if Seth knew she'd fallen for my notoriously careless brother. I doubted it; when Seth even suspected a romantic relationship involving his sister, he blustered around like a wounded chicken for at least three days before quieting. Judging from the lack of disgruntled squawking from Seth, he didn't know yet.

I owed it to Seth to at least warn Lancaster; besides, insane as she might be, she was one of the few people who didn't annoy me. Sure, she was odd, but it was an interesting odd.

"Ah, but who said I was talking about _that_ brother?" I asked. Well, if you couldn't beat them, join them. Perhaps if I matched her insanity, she would make more sense.

She stared at me, her hazel eyes wide.

"You only have one brother," she said slowly, clearly unnerved.

"I count as five thousand people," I retorted, waiting to see her reaction. She spluttered for a moment before scowling.

"Right, what do you want?" she snapped, waving her wrist around in front of her eyes. What in Merlin's bea-

Oh. Her watch. I considered telling her that the watch was three hours behind but decided against it.

"Look, Lancaster. My brother's trouble," I warned. Adela was just the sort of girl who'd get hurt by James; she was the girl he'd only realise was pretty after a few too many drinks, at which point he wouldn't remember what promises he made to her the next morning, and she'd be hurt. Then Seth would be angry, which meant he'd be distracted for the Quidditch match and annoyingly worked up for the next few days.

A slow, affectionate smile crept across her face, and I gaped at her; was she that infatuated that she swooned whenever James was even _mentioned_? Merlin, it was worse than I thought.

"James has never had a real girlfriend; I've seen him bring back brainless b-" I tried before stopping short. She was leaning close, which I normally would not protest to, and sniffing, which I was very confused about. Not annoyed (strangely enough), but confused.

"Are you _smelling _me?" I asked. She smiled again. She had a nice smile; it was unabashedly lopsided and toothy.

"What cologne do you use?" she asked.

I blinked. Was this some weird tactic to distract me? I eyed her warily. "Er...I don't use cologne," I said slowly.

"Aftershave?"

I stared at her. She was acting even odder than usual. I narrowed my eyes; as loathe as I was to admit it, if she was trying to throw me off, it was working. Perhaps there was some Slytherin to her after all. I made a defensive comment about the reporters who'd written that ridiculous article.

She was angry, now.

"Sod off, Potter," she retorted.

I rolled my eyes. Seth's sister _definitely _needed someone to take her under his wing; that was one of the worst comebacks I'd ever heard.

Still, she needed to avoid James. Merlin knew what a _sad _Lancaster would look like; she already acted loopy enough in her normal state. I stepped forward, determined to try again.

"But seriously, Lancaster, James isn-"

She bumped her head against the painting, eliciting an indignant shout from the painted man.

As I watched the (decidedly odd) events unfurling within the small painting and Lancaster's attempts to calm the comically foolish knight, I was struck yet again at Lancaster's unpredictability. Anyone else (myself included) would have long abandoned the knight to his idiocy.

She was the type of girl James would ignore for months before realising her true worth weeks after the inevitable break-up. As flighty as my brother was, he wasn't totally ignorant; if Lancaster kept pursuing him, he might actually become genuinely attached to her.

I didn't want that to happen, I realised with a start. I watched her suggesting new techniques to the knight, feeling my unease return.

Of course, this sentiment was completely due to my friendship with Seth and my dislike of James; by keeping Lancaster from this foolish pursuit, I was saving both Seth's twin from unavoidable heartache and keeping a chance at happiness from James.

It was only hours later that I looked at the spell book clutched, forgotten, in my right hand and remembered my original purpose for the morning.

**Author Note: Ha, so many Al requests! Remember, if you'd like to see a scene from either OQaS or OCaT from a different POV/want to have an unseen scene detailed just leave a request! :) **


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